At the tender age of thirty-one
I looked up from her pillow at
Barely twenty years of
Flesh and bone and smile.
I didn't need to spy.

Wearing nothing but herself.
Back straight, front to me,
Eyes locked with mine, though never
Once an uttered
Boy, my eyes are up here,
As they travelled across the this-is-me-ness of all of her;

All composed in some wicked
Genious proving that
God created all designers.
And that nothing exceeds the beauty
Of Woman.

I never forget thinking
This could be the one I watch
Dress and undress
For the rest of my life.

I still don't need to spy.

The heat of my youth
is as faraway now
as winters
that burned
in the hearth,
the flames
that once tickled my senses
splutter and cough
in the dark,
I used to see dreams
in the firelight
that smouldered
with promise and hope
but they cooled
with the wait
and when
it was too late
they drifted away
with the smoke.

"I thought you might enjoy this dvd about St. Francis," said Emily Scott, glancing curiously about the living room which looked like it had come out of "Better Homes and Gardens". However did the Detweilers not only manage to keep everything immaculate,but afford such extravagant furniture? Which is why it would prove enlightening to know what she thought of St. Francis.
A week later she called Regina Detweiler on the phone. " Well, how was the dvd? Did you like it?"
    "Oh, it was awesome... my husband and I throughly enjoyed it."
    "You mean... you agree with his philosophies?"
     "Philosophies? Hmmm. Oh, that! Well, he-uh- lived a long time ago."

If it's to be
It's up to me

Everything in me wants to flee
To the top of the tress
Where I can live and be free

Connect with nature
Be a baker, teacher or a Sergeant major
Rule the kingdom
With baby Lincoln and a trio of fearsome pilgrims

Swing from branch to beach
The sand, the water and the sea
Is this where I'm meant to be
Siting under a coconut tree drinking Chablis

Sunning with sea creatures
Feeling like a cheater
The heat and the sun
Making this a home run

Knowing it's where I'm meant to be
Me and all my heart is set free

Dreams filled with knights in shining armour
Her cheeks flushed, she lets out a soft groan
As she realizes she's woken up alone

A princess roaming aimlessly
Her wings broken and tattered
Can you see my strength even though I am weak
She wants to be special and unique

She stretches,  everything hurts
Loneliness causing such intense pain
That nothing seems to be the same but his old shirt

All around her the walls are white
This being her twelfth night
How many more must she endure
Or is this just a slight detour

Watching the stars knowing that they will answer her plea
16 more days and she will be set free
 A life without wings, princess and kings

What do you do
When all you can
Do is wait
For her voice
To sing the song
Of your open heart
Awaiting the calling
Of something unknown
Yet something you wish
Will love you for a thousand
Times, a thousand years
What do you do
When you are open to
Love, yet are endlessly lost
As to the reciprocal
Force of the lover you
So desperately seek
What do you do
When you have died
Everyday, waiting for her
Heart to beat back at
You, and your loving soul
More than just beauty
She captures you entirely
Wrapping her soul essence
Very being, around your
Awaiting heart mind soul
Your body craving only
Her.

© Sia Jane

at our old retreat
tall glasses of sweet iced tea
air of moss perfume
prayer and books and quietude
amongst gently soughing pines

**~Hilda~

She wears it around her neck on a chain. Safe in the only home it's known, smug between her *******.
A key to her first diary, where she wrote about her hopes and her dreams. About her love for the boy down the street and about how she lost her virginity and cried for a week.        
A key to her trousseau, holding warmth from the blankets and linens,  practicality from the dishware,  love from  the Shakespeare poems and long awaited hope from the yellowing lace.  
A key to her first home, with the white picket fence and the swing set in the back. Where her children would grow up, where laughter would ring and loneliness would echo in the halls                
A key to her favorite jewelry box, with the diamond earrings and macaroni necklace.  The discarded ring that she had to ask for and that never quite fit  
He knows the key is there, he's seen it for 3 decades.  He knows the devastation that is in store if he uses it.
Its the key to open her heart.